Dean slammed the door as he walked back into Bobby's house. He knew those words would come back to bite him in the ass the moment he uttered them, but he was just too damn mad to think about that now. Mad at Sam for being who he was and pushing when he was so close to losing it already, mad at his dad for making a deal with the devil on his behalf, mad at the demon for fucking their lives up, but mostly, he was just so fucking pissed at himself he could hardly stand it. He had ripped his brother's heart out, and when Sam had come to him for deliverance he had stepped on it, grounding it into the dust that now held their father. You really are a heartless son of a bitch Dean Winchester he thought with a sick smile.

"Something funny?" Bobby startled him out of his reverie.

"No, nothing at all. Just coming in to get some food." Dean made his way past the man toward the kitchen when Bobby answered. He slowed his steps.

"Sam made dinner, but it'll be cold by now." Bobby continued on his way out the door into the junkyard, doubtless to examine the damage Dean had done to the Impala. Dean didn't really feel like facing Sam right now, but his stomach growling surpassed all need for privacy from his younger sibling. He'd just get his food and get the hell out of dodge.

His fears were unwarranted as Sam was nowhere to be found. There was one plate still left on the table, macaroni and hot dogs heaped on it. There was ketchup on the table that he knew Sam had left out for him, since Sam didn't even eat hotdogs, much less with ketchup. Grabbing the bottle roughly, Dean nearly hurled it at the wall. Damn Sam for knowing him so well and coddling him, when he should want to wipe the floor with him.

After dinner, Dean trudged upstairs slowly, mulling over his brother's continued absence. Surely Sam knew not to stay outside of the wards Bobby had set up at nighttime. The demon was still out there, and they were healing still, as evidenced by the many bruises and scars still on their faces. Come to think of it, while his were healing, Sam's just seemed to get starker against his pale face. Shrugging off the thoughts of his brother, Dean washed his face and climbed into bed, ruing trying to get the dents out of his beloved car the next day.

Sun streaming through the window is what brought Dean awake the next morning. He automatically looked to his side before remembering that he had insisted on sleeping in a separate room from Sam. He shook his head to clear it from the image of Sam's hurt look at that decision, and swung his legs over the bed, ready for a new day. He had to keep going or he was going to crash and burn. His grief threatened to overwhelm him, but as long as he kept trudging along, maybe it would get better. At least he wasn't fooling himself like Sam, but a niggling voice at the back of his head disagreed with him.

Fresh brewed coffee was waiting for him in the kitchen and he silently thanked Bobby for knowing just what he wanted in the morning. Speaking of…

"Hey Bobby?" Dean yelled, opening the screen door and making his way into the yard. "Have you seen Sam?" Dean still hadn't seen his younger brother this morning, and he figured he'd better see what he was up to before Sam drove their gracious host up the wall.

"What?" Bobby raised himself up from under the Impala's hood and gave Dean a bewildered look. "He's in town still. Graveyard shift doesn't end till seven."

"What? Bobby, what are you talking about?" Dean walked quickly over to Bobby at the pitying look the older man gave him. "Bobby, tell me dammit…"

Bobby put a hand on Dean's shoulder and steered him toward the house. "Boy, I'd have hoped you both would work through this on your own, but apparently it's gonna take some talking to get through that thick skull of yours."

Dean took offense to this and went to shake Bobby's hand off his arm, but his grip was like steel, and he didn't let go until both were sitting at the kitchen table. He poured them two fresh cups of coffee while Dean followed him with narrow eyes. Heaving a sigh Bobby looked at Dean again with those sad eyes.

"When did you stop giving a damn about him?" Bobby watched as Dean did an impression of a fish out of water before holding up his hand and continuing. "Not the occasionally irked where the hell is he comment, but an actual damn?"

Dean had no response to this and it hit him that for once in his life he didn't have a quick answer.

Bobby shook his head then looked Dean square in the eye. "Your brother's been working at the all-night diner in town since you woke up. Are you telling me you didn't know?"

Dean racked his brain but could honestly say except for a few run-ins during the day when he had rebuffed his brother's attempts at conversation, he hadn't really seen him.

"But why?" Dean sounded lame even to his own ears. He hadn't been out making them money, so it would stand to reason that Sam would take the responsibility on himself. When had he become so lax in his responsibilities?

Bobby sighed again, in frustration more than anger. This was worse than he thought. "Where do you think all those fancy schmancy parts for your car have been coming from? You think I got 67 Chevy Impala engine parts just lyin around? Or the money to buy em? Your brother has been working himself to the bone trying to put that car back together. One working part my ass…You know that when you were lying in a coma in the hospital that fool brother of yours wouldn't let me scrap it? He said if there was one working part we could fix it. He wasn't just talking about the car Dean. It amazes me how quick you are to give up on him when he's giving all he has not to give up on you."

Dean stared at Bobby in awe. A wave of guilt washed over him then threatening to drown him. Sam had been there the whole time, but he had pushed him away. Sam, being who he was had tried to deal with his grief in his own way, and Dean had cut him down for that too. Who was Dean becoming? When had he forgotten that Sam was the reason he lived, still lived? Flashes from the past few weeks flitted through his mind and he cringed at the realizations. Sam hovering once he woke up, only for Dean to snap at him in annoyance. Dean's insistence that they sleep in separate rooms, leaving Sam sleeping on the couch that was far too small for his lanky form. The circles deepening into black smudges beneath Sam's eyes. Dean telling him it was 'Too little, too late' on that abandoned roadway. Sam telling him he wasn't alright. The tears in Sam's eyes as he was rebuffed once again.

"Ohmigod." Dean lowered his head into his arms as Bobby awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

"It's not too late son. That boy still looks at you with something akin to worship. There's still time to be worthy of it." With that Bobby left Dean to his musings, hoping he had saved the brothers' relationship from permanent damage.

Dean worked on the Impala until he heard footsteps come up the drive. Of course Dean thought to himself. He would have to walk, we left Bobby's only other working car on that road…

He wiped his hands off with a dusty rag and tried not to look too eager at Sam's trudging form. He took into account how Sam's head hung low, the bangs shielding his eyes from the world. How long had it been since his brother had gotten any sleep?

Sam didn't look up until he was almost right on top of Dean. Looking up startled at his brother's presence, he rasped out an apology and turned to head into the house.

Dean's heart clenched when he saw his brother's face. He was haggard and pale and he just looked so damn defeated. I did that to him Dean thought as he ran to catch up with Sam.

"Sammy!" he called out as he got closer. The tall form flinched at the use of the nickname, and Dean winced as he realized he hadn't called him that since before they left the hospital. Catching up he put his hand on his brother's shoulder, only to recoil from the warmth he felt there.

Dean snapped back his hand startled, and then grabbed his younger brother spinning him around. Sam wavered on his feet, but he met Dean's probing eyes with his own exhausted stare.

"Sammy, what's going on?" Dean put his hand up to Sam's forehead and hissed as he felt the heat radiating from the spot. "Sam, you have a fever."

Sam's eyes fell, and he muttered a "sorry" before his strength left him and he pitched forward onto Dean's surprised form.